Life: Take Two
by GS Investigator
Summary: When life gives you apples, make apple pie. When you screw up and life gives you more apples, try again. GSR, slightly OOC
1. Part 1: Chapter 1

**A/N: Just so if any of you have read my other story (Of Mothers and Daughters) I haven't forgotten about it, just some serious writers block. However, this story should make up for it. **

**Enjoy, and remember please, reviews are our friends!**

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Catherine's words continued to replay in his mind incessantly. Reminiscent of a mantra that would not, no, _could _not, relieve itself of his presence. "You know, with they way she's slipping through your fingers, I'm amazed at how well you can handle those bugs of yours."

Las Vegas criminalist, Gil Grissom, was undeniably a genius of sorts; it was what allowed him to excel at his job. But he knew his long-time friend and co-criminalist, Catherine Willows, was right about one thing. His considerable lack of knowledge in the world of relationships was inexcusable. Especially due to, what he deemed as, his old age. Truthfully, age fifty was one to be proud of… if you weren't in love with your thirty-five year old subordinate.

"You know, with they way she's slipping through your fingers, I'm amazed at how well you can handle those bugs of yours," Catherine had said, mockingly. Oh, how he loved his entomology. So predictable; precise to the most negligible degree. He could pinpoint exact times of death with just one insect and some patience. And then, there was a one Sara Sidle. Somehow, throughout his vast brain, he could not locate one piece of knowledge containing the instructions on how to deal with such a case as he was presented with.

While he was pondering this, he had completely forgotten that Catherine was still there. "Grissom?" His eyes found hers. "Hey, there, butterfingers! Lost you there for a second."

"I apologize." He looked down. He couldn't even talk to his friend. How was he ever going to deal with Sara? "What were you saying?"

"I was saying that you better go talk to her before you lose her for good. No one deserves to be yelled at the way you yelled at her tonight. Go apologize." Grissom nodded in agreement and continued sitting in his chair in his kitchen. Catherine stood up to be right in front of him. "Now!" she said, as if talking to a two-year-old.

Grissom, finally understanding, got up quickly and exited his over-sized, monotonous townhouse. "I guess I'll just lock up," Catherine said to no one in particular as she gazed around the kitchen. "Men," she blatantly declared as she took in the bleak nothingness that was his humble abode.


	2. Part 1: Chapter 2

As Grissom drove to Sara's house, his thoughts went back to the argument he'd had with her only mere hours before.

_"Sara!" Grissom yelled to her as he chased her down the lab corridor. "Sara! I'm not finished!"_

_She turned around, eyes shooting daggers into his. "What?" she fired back._

_His voice turned to a whisper as he leaned closer. "As a representative of this crime lab, it is not under your authority to determine whether a man is guilty without proper evidence," he seethed._

_"Proper evidence!" she shot at him, rolling her eyes, oblivious to the growing number of lab personal turned bystanders. "So his fingerprints at her house, his fingerprints on the knife, and his semen on the condom that also contained her DNA is not proper evidence? Then what the hell else do we have? Huh?" Her voice and posture mirrored his previous stance, and she could swear she could feel his beard. "This is a slam-dunk case. I apologize if I got a little, rowdy, in that interrogation room. But you know what, I can live with it because I know that I'm right." She began walking away, but after a few yards, she turned around, fire still ablaze in her eyes. "And I know that you're wrong."_

_With that, she continued her confident prance down the rest of the hallway towards the locker room._

_"Sara Sidle!" Grissom roared, sending lab rats scattering and glass walls trembling. "Come back here right now!" Sara continued on her stride. "What makes you so certain that you're right? What compels you to always blame the men?" He knew he was stretching, but he couldn't lose. Not in front of everyone._

_This last comment stopped her dead in her tracks. She threw back her final blow. "I think you've just presented the most substantial piece of evidence all by yourself," and she left, bypassing the locker room to head directly to her Tahoe._

He was knocked out of his reverie when he found himself knocking on her door. "Grissom? What? Do you know what time it is? I was almost asleep. What the hell are you doing?"

The fact of the matter was, he didn't really know _what _he was doing. "I thought I'd, um…" This was not going to go well, and he knew it. He looked up to see her face looking just as confused as he felt. "I, um, I wanted to… to apologize… for before. I was out of line. I knew you were right, but with all the people looking at us and I… I don't like to lose… and well, I was and…" She silenced him, putting her index finger over his mouth.

"Look, I know where you're going, so you can just stop." He looks so lost, she thought to herself, cursing herself for even thinking of pitying him. Remember what he did to you today, she reminded herself. Yeah, but look at what he's doing now. She internally sighed, noting that now he was making her schizophrenic.

"Sara," he said softly, her returning to the real world. "I really am sorry. I'm trying to… I'm working on, rather… um…" His hand raked through his mess of salt and pepper curls, more pepper than salt. He took a deep breath and started anew. "You told me once that, given proper evidence, a man accused of raping a woman is most likely the assailant." Now she was really confused. "It's the same thing as if a man were accused of verbally berating and embarrassing a woman. Only, in the second instance, the evidence collected is not so accurate. In this case, the investigator has misread the evidence given to her, but not due to her lack of intelligence or skill. No, the reason for the misreading is due to the fact that the man has made his evidence so vague and… and so hazy that he can't even distinguish what it means."

Grissom sought Sara's eyes once more, and found what he'd last expected to find. It wasn't hatred or anger, or even confusion, he found in her eyes. No, because for some strange reason, cause unknown, Sara Sidle had actually understood what he'd said to her. Even if he didn't even understand it, all that mattered was that she comprehended what he meant. What he saw was the kind of compassion and empathy she showed when she knew she was getting to far into a case. And, just like it did every time her saw her like that, that look just made him fall harder for her, for he knew she really cared for him, and only wished he could do the same for her.

He looked at his feet, finding a speck of dirt on his shoe fascinating. "I… I'm sorry. You should be sleeping; I shouldn't be here. This is-"

"Grissom," she stopped his rambling, but he still refused to look at her. "Gil," she said more forcefully. This time, he looked up, his eyes reflecting more confidence than he believed he possessed. "Thank you for being honest with me. It means more to me than you could ever imagine. And even though I know that there is so much more that needs to be discussed, I am both impressed and greatly appreciative of what you've done."

Sara knew that being so open was possibly making him internally spontaneously combust, and decided that some gratitude on her part would make him feel better. Though, she admitted to herself, she meant every word she said.

Both stood there, their own social ineptness catching up to them. Neither knew what to say, so it would seem that a stalemate was in progress, to be relieved only by the forfeit of one or both players.

"I'm sorry," both said simultaneously.

"No, it should be me that's sorry," Sara told him. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. You deserve better."

"_You _deserve better," Grissom corrected. "You had all the reason in the world to yell at me. I was being a complete asshole, have been over the past years; and I want to make it up to you." Sara had to confess, she was intrigued. "Meet me in my office at the end of shift tomorrow morning. I'll explain everything then."

Everything? What was he talking about, she thought. Obviously he had put more thought into this apology than she first assumed. Assume nothing she remembered him saying, and she knew he was right. Life held more to than to be expected, she knew that now.


	3. Part 1: Chapter 3

At the start of shift that night, Sara was assigned a robbery at a jewelry store in the middle of nowhere. Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes, friends and co-criminalists, were to investigate a death under suspicious circumstances at the Hotel Monaco. "When is a death never under a suspicious circumstance?" Warrick had asked, and Sara had to agree. Catherine was to finish a case from the previous night, while Grissom assigned himself to finish the ever-present, and ever growing, pile of paperwork currently strewn about his desk.

It was only a quarter of the way into her shift when Sara returned back to the lab. As she walked past Grissom's office, he noticed the lack of evidence in her hands. This interested him, causing him to leave his office and call after her. "Sara?" he called quietly.

She turned around, retracing her steps until she was closer so that they didn't have to yell across the hallway. "Yeah?" she barked, agitation apparent in her voice and stance.

"Did you already drop off your evidence?" He stepped back, fearing her wrath. He knew how she could be when angry, especially having experienced it first hand.

"No!" She almost shouted. "There is no evidence!"

Now Grissom was confused. "What do you mean, 'no evidence'?"

"I mean, _no _evidence. False fucking alarm!"

"You wanted a robbery?" Grissom asked, earning him a smug snort.

Grissom raised an eyebrow, his usual signal to elaborate. "It seems that the owner had forgotten that he sold fifteen multi-million dollar diamond jewelry pieces to a collector earlier today." She sighed, exasperated from her rambling and long journey. "He couldn't have just called?" Sara asked to Grissom rhetorically, although furtively hoping that someone would give her an answer as to why she wasted her hard-earned gas and precious time.

Signaling her to follow him into his office, Sara entered first, allowing him to shut the door behind them, allowing them as much privacy as possible being that the blinds were already shut on the clear glass paned walls.

"Look," Grissom declared, pointing at his desk. "That is definitely more than I can handle in one shift," he told her, referring to the mound of paperwork that could rival Mount Everest. "Why don't you help me, that way we can be done by the end of shift?" Again, with the end of shift thing. She desperately wanted to know what he was planning. "You've seen my signature so many times, you can easily forge it when necessary."

"Grissom," Sara started, obviously objecting to the idea. "If Ecklie finds out…" She let it hang, not even wanting to think about what the assistant director would do to them.

"Sara, does it look like I care what _Ecklie_ thinks?" Gil Grissom and Conrad Ecklie could be considered enemies, but to be enemies, you usually have many similar qualities; Grissom couldn't find any if they bit him in the ass.

So it began. Sara pulled up a chair next to Grissom behind his desk so that in case she should need assistance, she could easily ask him. Neither wanted to admit that that wasn't the only reason their chairs' arms were touching halfway through the pile, compared to the foot apart they were at when they started. As the hours went on, Sara was using Grissom's right shoulder as a backrest, her head nestled in the crook between his shoulder and head, his head relaxed on top of hers.

It was only a few minutes to the end of shift when Catherine walked into Grissom's office, unannounced in true Catherine style, to fine the two fast asleep, files still in both of their hands. She would have laughed at the absurdity of it had she not been relieved beyond believe that he finally got his 'head out of that microscope' that she had told him to do after another misunderstanding between the two scientists.

She locked the door from the inside knob, stepped out, and closed the door behind her. She knew this was probably a once in a lifetime chance for her good friends, and did not want to prematurely disturb their bliss. She'd let them disturb themselves when they found out what happened.


	4. Part 1: Chapter 4

The last dregs of sleep wearing off, Sara Sidle went to stretch when she found her right arm immobilized by something. She looked down to see her left hand entwined with Grissom's right and sighed. She didn't know how he'd react when he awakened, so, placing the uncompleted file back on his desk with her right hand, she settled back down into her original position.

The shuffling and slight noise interrupted Grissom from his light slumber, and as he turned his head, he was bombarded with the amazing smell of Sara's shampoo, unconsciously taking a large breath to ingrain the smell into his memory.

Meanwhile, Sara sat there wide-eyed, wondering if he was really awake, part of her praying that he wasn't, most of her praying that he was. She knew the truth, though, when he spoke.

"Good morning."

She sighed in relief, relief for the fact that he wasn't angry at their current position, and relief for the fact that he actually sounded happy. "Good morning," she repeated, turning around as she spoke, both immediately missing the warm contact. "We overslept," she joked, coming closer, resting her head once again on his shoulder.

"That we did," he agreed as he put his own unfinished file back on his desk. She yawned, immediately placing the back of her right hand over her mouth. Grissom laughed, before being overcome as he himself instinctually yawned. This brought about a laugh from Sara, a sight and sound Grissom knew he would treasure forever. "Oh, you think that's funny?" And with that he poked her side, between her ribs and her waist. This elicited a round of childish giggles from Sara, causing Grissom to laugh in response.

"You'll pay for that one," she playfully told him as she looked up, their noses nearly touching.

"Oh, will I?"

"Oh yeah," she stated confidently.

"Well, you're going to have to catch me first." Before Sara could even process his words, he was out of his chair headed to the door.

"Wha… Grissom!" Finding the door locked, she almost caught up with him as he struggled to unlock it, but he opened the door just in time and scrambled out. She stopped just outside the door and yelled after him, he being halfway down the hall. "Grissom, this is insane!" She laughed as he turned around stuck his tongue out at her before resuming his swift jog down the corridors of the lab. Oh, she thought, now it's war.

She sprinted after him, nearly knocking down Judy, the secretary, in her mad dash to the front door. Once outside, a quick scan of the surrounding area proved fruitful when she found him panting next to the driver's side door of his government-issued Denali. "Caught 'ya," she said, smiling.

"That… you… did," he told her, still panting. "You're not… even… breathing _hard_. Why?"

"Ten mile jog when I have the time, which usually means whenever you kick me out of the lab." It was sad but true, she realized, that she really did have no life outside of the lab. That is, until now, she thought. I think.

"Well," Grissom said, finally able to catch his breathe. "I'm not as young as I once was."

"Not as bright, either," Sara countered. "I told you I'd get you back."

"Bring it on," he answered.

Sara shrugged. "Maybe later," she told him nonchalantly. "So, what are we doing?"

"What do you mean, 'what are we doing'?"

"You told me to meet you at the end of shift. It's the end of shift. Actually," she glanced at her watch. "It's two and a half hours past the end of shift. That certainly fits into your time span of telling me."

"Okay. Meet me at the diner in about a half hour, I'll explain everything."

"Sure. See you then."

"Bye." With that, they parted ways, as Grissom got into his Denali and Sara headed over to her Tahoe.


	5. Part 1: Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry it's really short. I just have a lot to do, and I didn't want to leave you guys hanging. Here it is. Enjoy! Remember- reviews are my best friends!**

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It was half an hour on the dot when Grissom saw Sara stride confidently into the diner. He waved to her, and she walked over to the small table he was occupying. He got up and pulled the chair out for her, letting her push it in herself, knowing that she wouldn't take to kindly to not having any control.

The waitress came over, saying she'd be back in a minute with their coffee. "So," Sara began. "Are you going to tell me now?"

"Now, as in right this second, or now as in at some point during breakfast?"

"Some point before I die," Sara jokingly sighed, exasperated.

"Here you go," the waitress said as she placed the coffee mugs on the table. "Anything else?" she asked, pulling out her pocket notebook.

"Uh, I'm not really that hungry. You, Grissom?"

"No, this coffee's good for me. Thank you." The waitress thanked them and walked off to tend to the other customers.

"Did you have any plans for today?" he asked casually, as if he did it every day.

Sara took a sip of her coffee, contemplating his motives. He could just be acting nice, she thought, or… She realized she didn't really know any other reason Grissom would ask her… What _was _he asking her? "No. Why?" she finally answered.

"Well, I thought that, uh, if you have nothing to do, and I had, uh, nothing to do, we could, maybe, do nothing together, possibly." Smooth, he chided himself.

She crooked an eyebrow, but soon after nodded. "Sure. Sounds like fun. There's nothing I'd rather do than to do nothing with you."

"That was quite poetic," he praised.

"I try. Can't let you steal all the glory all the time, now can I?" she smiled. He returned it with one of his own as he stood up reaching for his wallet. "Grissom, it's fine, I can pay for my own coffee."

"But I want to," he told her, confused, not quite understanding why she wasn't allowing him to help her.

"Okay. Sure." They dropped it, both too awkward to continue the half-conversation they were having.

"Come on, I have a place I want to take you," Grissom told her leaning closely to whisper in her ear. They walked out of the diner, his hand place protectively on the small of her back, guiding her out the door. "Go back to your apartment. Pack a bag for, uh, a couple weeks, and I'll meet you there in, say, an hour." With that, he left her, stunned in the parking lot.

He was about to drive off when she called to him, finally able to find her voice. "Grissom!"

"Yes?"

"Cold, hot, windy, rainy, snowy?" she asked. Where am I going, she wondered.

"Uh," he contemplated. "All of the above." And with that he was gone.

"What is he talking about, 'all of the above'? Was he just brushing off my question, or was he serious?" she asked herself. Whatever, she thought. Better to be safe than sorry.

She hopped into her Tahoe, utterly annoyed at Grissom's actions, scared of what was going on, completely trusting Grissom, and exceedingly thrilled at the prospects of what might come out of this impromptu trip.


	6. Part 1: Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. Life got in the way. The next chapter should be up sooner than this one. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!**

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Sara could not believe she was doing this. With all the pain Grissom put her through, she shouldn't be trusting him. But for some reason, she couldn't get thoughts of them together out of her head; what they could do outside the lab. It was something she had never considered before. Grissom had never been one to openly admit that his only diversion from anything related to dead bodies and bugs was riding roller coasters, and yet, he had told her, of all people.

The funny thing is, she told herself, that's the most personal thing he has every told me. When I've told him everything, all he's every said was that he rode roller coasters. Sell out. Who does he think he is, thinking he can get away with only telling me that?

And those other times, she began again. The times he's pushed me away without a second thought. He is so… clueless… to the rest of the world, the people around him. Does he not even notice that I have feelings for him? Of course he does. That's why he does this, I guess. No ones allowed to know him. Does he even know himself, I wonder? But first and foremost, where did he get the right to tell me to pack my bags, that we're going away for weeks? And why the hell did I agree?

With that thought in mind, Sara turned back to the task at hand. When she had arrived home, she immediately went to her closet. She had no idea what she should pack. He said pack for all weather, but Sara wasn't sure if he was serious, or if he didn't know himself. She couldn't remember a place in her mind that could be hot and cold at the same time, nor rainy and snowy.

Looking in her closet, she found the clothes that she wore during those cold desert night. These should keep me warm, she thought, placing them in her suitcase and resuming her search. She packed her Las Vegas summer clothes, for the supposed heat. Sara then took her jeans and additional pants and stuffed them all in her suitcase, followed by a raincoat and down jacket.

It was then that she came across her dresses, of which there were only two. Her blood red cocktail dress was only worn once, long ago, to a party her friend invited her to when she worked in San Francisco. She didn't even know she still had it. Her second, a pure black casual dress, had been worn more often but less than most people. She didn't get out much, she knew that, and she didn't mind.

But now she was faced with a decision. To bring them would mean that she thought Grissom would actually get his head out of his ass long enough to ask her to somewhere nice. She must say, though, that this whole trip was very courageous on his part. However, to not take them would be to not trust him, and she knew she did; to an extent. She trusted him with her life, just not her heart.

Decision made, she put the dresses in her suitcase. She figured that she would take her chances. If he is disappoint her this time, that's it. This was going to be his last chance, which she hopes he takes.

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When Grissom walked into his house, he could not believe it. She had said yes. After all that he put her though, Sara had been ready and willing to go on this trip with him. He hadn't even told her where they were going, and yet, she trusted him enough to know that she was safe with him. He could take her to a war zone, he knew, and she would still follow.

He both envied and pitied that certain characteristic. He knew he had done nothing to gain or maintain her trust, and yet, there she was, allowing him to take her anywhere just to be with him. But that was where to envy ended. She had no one in her life that cared about her that she was willing to go anywhere just to be with someone who just wanted to spend time with her. She had no one to wonder what she did when she wasn't working, which, he knew, was just more work.

And that was the basis for this trip. Although he knew he had ulterior motives, his main foal was to get her out of the lab, for more than three hours. Sara needed a break, and he knew that she would not go willingly. Which was why he was so surprised that she accepted so quickly. He hadn't even need to beg.

Now that he knew she was going, he had to make sure he was ready for her to go. He had not expected her to say yes, and was prepared for rejection. Acceptation was what he was not ready for. She was ready for him to do something, he was ready for him to do something, but he knew neither of them knew what to do. He had something planned, this trip being part one, but he was now sincerely doubting his plan. What if she did not want what he wanted? What if he was over-thinking this whole, thing, that they had.

But he knew he wasn't. And he knew she said yes. That was all he needed to think that maybe this trip would go better than he first thought.


	7. Part 1: Chapter 7

**A/N: I know. It's been awhile. Life, oh well… Anyway, here's the end of Part 1, the next part should be up soon (as in shorter than it took me to post this chapter). Well, here you go. Enjoy!**

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"You ready to go?" Grissom asked, although he could plainly see that Sara had placed her now packed suitcase right next to the door and was just searching for her shoes.

"I know I threw them over here somewhere," she told no one in particular.

"If you would just place them neatly by the door, you wouldn't have this problem," Grissom playfully harassed her.

"Well, if I remember correctly," she picked up her shoes from underneath her coffee table, "it was you who was the one being yelled at by Mike to put away your shoes neatly."

"And I've done so ever since," he smiled as he replied, happily remembering a time when there was no such thing as reservation or timidity in his and Sara's relationship.

**Harvard, Massachusetts; Fall 1991**

"_Mike! Mike, get back here!" a twenty-year-old Sara Sidle yelled as she chased her equal aged and equally intelligent roommate around their apartment. _

"_I don't think so. You'll get your paper back when you admit that you actually said that two plus two was two!"_

"_No!" she playfully screamed. Sara paused at the doorway. Chasing Mike while screaming at the top of her lungs quickly drained her oxygen, but her smile was still plastered to her face. "Michael Adam Wilcox, give me back my **twenty-three page paper** right now! It took me days!"_

"_Then admit it!"_

"_I don't think my psych teacher will understand when I say my roommate ate my paper!" She was cracking up at her own joke when she heard the doorbell ring. Better be important, she thought, ready to kill whoever was ruining her fun. Her anger quickly dissipated, though, when she saw who was standing at the door._

"_Ms. Sidle." Gil Grissom chivalrously announced._

"_Grissom!" she practically shrieked. "What are you doing here?"_

"_I'm doing a seminar in a few days and decided to take some time to visit my star pupil," he jokingly told her, knowing that she was always telling him that she was trying to be just that._

"_Hey, Sar, who's at the door?" Mike asked, coming out of his hiding spot in the bathroom._

"_It's Dr. Grissom," she softly yelled to him, still staring into the older man's eyes._

"_Ah, Dr. Grissom," Mike said knowingly._

"_Just Grissom, please, the doctor title makes me feel old."_

"_Sure, Grissom." He gave him an approving once over, noticing every inch of his broad shouldered, evenly muscled build. "Well, I can tell why Sara can't stop talking about you," Mike told Grissom as he approached the doorway._

"_Hey!" Sara playfully hit him._

"_Really?" Grissom questioned, cocking an eyebrow; a gesture Sara would grow to love. The men began to laugh at the obvious agitation they were causing, and laughed even harder when they saw a blush creep up the back of her neck._

"_Can we, get on with our lives… please." Sara suggested, inching slowly back into the apartment. _

"_Sure," Mike calmly told her, effectively masking his obvious enjoyment of finally out-witting Sara Sidle. The three went inside, Sara quickly snatching her paper back from Mike's unsuspecting hands. _

"_Ha!" she proudly exuded, quickly recoiling her gesticulations when she remembered her company. The only reaction she got was another hysterical round of laughter from Mike and a smug smirk from Grissom, from which she just smiled at. She was glad someone was not taking as much enjoyment from her embarrassment as Mike was._

_The three eventually made it to the small living room, Mike choosing to sit in the arm chair watching the two science geeks squirm trying to stay as far away from each other as they could on the two cushioned love seat. _

"_Oh, where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself. Michael Wilcox," he said, and stuck out his hand._

"_Grissom," he said, taking the hand extended to him. "So," Grissom clumsily began. "What are doing at Harvard, Mike?"_

"_Studying law," he told him indifferently with a slow shrug of his shoulders. At Grissom raised eyebrow, which they would both learn was his personalized sign to elaborate, Mike did so. "My dad's choice, not mind." Grissom nodded his head in understanding. "It was either this or no college, and I decided at least this would be a decent life," compared to being shunned from my family, he thought to himself. Grissom sensed there was more to the story, but decided to stay quite, determining that he barely knew the man._

_After hours of easy conversation, Sara noticed the time. "Well, I'm going go to go hit the sack. Hey, Grissom, where are you staying?"_

_Grissom contemplated her question, quickly realizing that that was the thing he forgot to do before leaving for the seminar he would be speaking at. I knew I forgot something, he scolded himself. "Uh, actually, no. You know those times you walk out the door and know that you forgot something?" Mike and Sara both nodded. "This is one of those times."_

"_You could stay here," Sara said, a tad too enthusiastically. The men stared at her. "You… you could stay in Mike's room and he could sleep with me for the night. Trust me, that is not a couch you would want to sleep on." _

"_Oh, you and Mike aren't…?" Grissom trailed off, quite confused._

"_Together?" Sara asked, waving a hand between her and Mike. Both look at each other, and simultaneously burst into laughter._

"_He thought-" Mike began before being consumed by laughter._

"_That we were-" Sara tried to finish but failed when another bout of laughter hit her._

_Once both were composed once more, Mike explained. "Sorry, but there is no way that I would ever think that Sara would be a good partner for me." Grissom was about to interrupt when he was silenced with an apologetic face and a wave of a hand. "It's not that I don't think that Sara would be an excellent partner, I would be thrilled if we were together, it just so happens, sir, that I'm gay."_

"_Oh. That makes sense." Grissom thought about it a minute more, then nodded his head and went to take a look at the room he'd be sleeping in._

"_Well, that went better than I thought it would," Mike declared, watching the older man look at his room._

"_Another thing I love about the man." Sara smiled blissfully and sighed. When she heard Mike begin to laugh again, she playfully shoved him and began to walk back to her room. "I'm going to bed, I'll see you when I wake up." And after another few seconds of laughing, Mike went to join her._

_After a few minutes, Grissom walked out of his room, and, noticing that his two friends were in their room, kicked off his shoes and headed back to his own room._

_As the sun slowly rose on the horizon, so did Mike, and then quickly fell as he tripped over Grissom's shoes. "Gil Grissom!" he screamed. This not only woke up Grissom, but Sara appeared in her own doorway._

"_Uh huh," he answered, still escaping from his subconscious. _

"_You left you're shoes in the middle of the floor!"_

"_Sorry."_

"_Mike, don't be mad at him, we were up late last night, and he was probably just really tired, and he probably just needed to go to sleep like I do-" she yawned, "now. Come, let's go back to sleep."_

"_I'm not tired," Mike answered back. "But go right ahead. I'm sorry about yelling at you, Grissom. I'm a little cranky in the morning."_

"_Is 'k," Grissom answered, still half sleeping. "Night," he told them and headed back to bed._

"_Uh huh," Sara answered and did the same._

_Mike took this chance to notice that they both went into the same room, but decided to let them figure it out themselves. Meanwhile, he had some shoes to attend to._

"Grissom!" He was knocked out of his reverie when he heard someone call his name. "Grissom, come on, let's go!"

Realizing the voice was Sara's, he quickly complied, moving to help her with her suitcase. "Is this all?" he questioned, holding up the bag.

"I travel light," she answered, and headed out the door. Grissom followed suit, and after she locked her door and put her keys away, the two headed to Grissom's Denali; his hand never leaving the small of her back.


End file.
